


Seeking Distraction

by mandysimo13



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 1967, Crack Fic, Kissing, M/M, Seduction, crack ship, don't come at me for this, this is all tumblr's fault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-06-25 17:20:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19750276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mandysimo13/pseuds/mandysimo13
Summary: After Aziraphale's heart-wrenching rejection in his Bentley, Crowley is sulking. He's desperate for a distraction, to stop feeling things only for a moment. Lucky for him, Lance Corporal Shadwell makes an excellent distraction.





	Seeking Distraction

**Author's Note:**

> This is entirely A-zira-fell @ tumblr's fault. If I had to have this image in my head then so do all of you!

Crowley was still sulking over his latest interaction with Aziraphale. In all honesty, he reasoned, there was no reason to sulk. No reason to be moody. He had gotten exactly what he wanted and he didn’t even have to risk going anywhere near a church or getting a bunch of silly, money-grubbing mortals going to jail either. Aziraphale had given him a thermos, and an alarmingly ugly one at that, full of his Insurance Policy. He had broken the angel down. He had won. 

So why did he feel so put out that the angel didn’t take him up on his small attempt at repayment. 

_ You go too fast for me Crowley _ . 

He screwed his eyes shut and shoved his hands deep into his pockets, trying to make himself as small as possible as he rushed through the London streets. He was looking to lose himself, to forget his inconvenient and decidedly un-demonic-like emotions. Hearing the screaming of guitars and smelling the waft of cigarettes, he followed the trail to a dingy little club where someone was doing their damndest to sound “cool” with their guitar. A quick peek inside revealed a wealth of temptation options - underaged boys out looking to score a drink, girls just itching for an excuse to toss their bra on stage, bartenders looking to slip a few extra bills in their pockets - and he decided he had found his distraction. 

He started off slow, tipping his bartender just a little extra when he paid for his pint and making a quiet comment, “they don’t pay you enough here, do they? Pity. The owners surely can afford a few quid, they’d never know it was gone.” The bartender gave him a sly smile and a nod and then Crowley proceeded to watch as, every few customers, a bill or two found their way into his pocket. 

Feeling like he’d stretched his wings a bit he moved onto a delightfully shady looking man lurking in the corner. A few minutes conversation revealed that he was a purveyor of most things illegal. On this night in particular, he had a whole new stock of LSD to spread. Crowley helped the man in his entrepreneurial endeavors by pointing out who might be looking to buy. The man was ever so thankful. 

It was all too easy. 

In a matter of two hours everyone in the club was doing something terribly naughty and he was left alone, bored and still moping. 

He curled his lip into a frown before taking a sip of his beer. All this tempting business was getting old. He needed a new hobby. A new distraction. 

“Mister Crowley,” an eerily familiar voice called to him. 

Turning his head he saw his new mortal henchman. “Mister Shadwell.”

“ _ Lance Corporal _ Shadwell,” he replied tetchily. 

“If you say so.” Crowley leaned back into the wall behind him, lounging as casually as he could. After all, he did have appearances to maintain. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

“Oh, well.” Shadwell looked a little embarrassed and said in mock confidence, “doing what you’re probably doing. Tryna to get a leg over.” 

Crowley smiled at that and eyed him over the rim of his glass. Feeling comfortable in the dim of the club, he strategically let his glasses slip down the bridge of his nose. He let his eyes rove over Shadwell and made sure that the  _ Lance Corporal _ knew he was looking. “Is that so?” 

Shadwell coughed into his fist and slammed back his beer. “A-yep.” He belched loudly, laying his masculinity on thickly. 

_ Closeted bisexual, _ Crowley immediately gleaned.  _ Disapproves, thinks it ungodly. Pity. He’s rather fetching. Could show a bloke - a demon - a good time.  _ But then the idea took root and he grinned wickedly.  _ The perfect challenge. The perfect distraction.  _

“So tell me,  _ Lance Corporal _ ,” he said, letting his smile grow. He leaned a little, putting the man on edge. “What is it that you’re looking to get a leg over?” 

Shadwell took a step back and found a table cutting off his retreat. He looked torn between wanting to run for the hills and stay and explore his deepest desires. Rather than answer the question he said, “w-well, I thought that woulda been obvious.” 

Crowley put the hand not holding his beer on Shadwell’s shoulder and whispered in his ear, “you mean like one of those lovely, young things? Hmm?” He pointed towards the throngs of young women dancing to the music on stage and watched as Shadwell’s gaze shifted slowly. He drew his attention back by whispering, “a handsome lad like you, I’m sure you can pull all the birds you want.” 

Shadwell nodded, “I...I could if I wanted.” 

Crowley pouted and pulled his gaze back to him with a finger under the man’s chin. “Surely you want. You said so yourself that you want.” 

Eyes glued to Crowley he said, “I dinnae often...succumb. I try not to let their wiles entice me.” Then, as if trying to remember his “official” persona, he added, “never know if they’re going to turn out to be a witch.” 

“Ah,” Crowley said in mock understanding. “I see.” Crowley, thoroughly invested in his little game, leaned even closer but didn’t dare let their bodies touch as he deposited his beer on the table behind Shadwell. He saw Shadwell’s throat work in a nervous bob and let a tingle of satisfaction spark inside him. 

“Tell me,  _ Lance Corporal _ ,” he whispered the title tantalizingly against Shadwell’s cheek. “How does one know if one is a witch?”

“Lots of ways. You ask ‘em to recite the lord’s prayer. You dunk ‘em in water, see if they float or sink. You poke ‘em with a pin.” 

“And what does that do?” He hovered his lips above Shadwell’s and let his puff of breath huff out over Shadwell’s. “Poking them?”

“It tells you if she feels pain. If she bleeds. If anything...unnatural comes out.” 

“Unnatural, you say. Fascinating. Anything else?” 

“Well...there is one more thing.”

“Yes?” 

“You count the nipples.” 

Crowley giggled at that.  _ Silly humans, still believing in “witch’s tits”. He’s confused them with actual nipples.  _ **_Somebody_ ** _ , humans are gloriously ridiculous, _ “You don’t say.” Then, wanting to see Shadwell grow even redder, he asked. “What do you do with the nipples?”

“Nnngk! I dinnae know!” 

“But you’re the one looking for them,” Crowley insisted. “Surely you do something with them.” 

“I-”

“I wonder,” Crowley said, dragging a finger down Shadwell’s sternum stopping his blustery reply in its tracks. “What you would do with a good set of nipples. A nice, _natural_ **_pair_** of nipples.” 

Shadwell’s jaw dropped giving him the distinct look of a fish out of water. Satisfied with his toying, Crowley retrieved his warming beer and took a small step back. He took a sip and luxuriously licked his lips before giving Shadwell a heated glance. “Let’s say you do  _ succumb _ . You do give into temptation.”

“Aye?” 

“What is it you’d say? How would you woo your target?” Crowley leaned back into the wall putting himself on display, wordlessly telling Shadwell that he was more than willing to be said temptation. He enjoyed watching Shadwell squirm, deciding whether or not he was going to dip his toes into the waters of the other sex or if he was going to chicken out. 

Finally, curiosity won out. 

Shadwell gathered himself to his full height and bracketed Crowley against the wall with his forearms planted on either side of his head. He leaned in, breath husky, and asked, “how many nipples have ya got, laddie?” 

Stifling a giggle, Crowley whispered back, “how many did you want?” 

Thinking it was a joke and not at all realizing that, should Crowley choose, he could have a full set of sixteen nipples like a cat, Shadwell laughed. The laughter seemed to make him more confident and he ran a light palm over Crowley’s chest, checking to see if all was in order and replied, “the standard two shall suffice.”

_ Gotcha _ , Crowley preened internally. Lust had always been his favorite sin - aside from sloth - and he knew how to wield it perfectly. He turned his head, letting his breath ghost over Shadwell’s neck and send shivers down his spine. A moment of anticipation and bated breath and then he asked, “yours or mine,  _ Lance Corporal _ ?” 

In the end it had been Crowley’s apartment. Which was just fine by him. He was more comfortable that way, more in control. He let Shadwell take the lead, letting him explore his newly accepted sexuality. He felt Shadwell’s hands on his, tugging at his clothes and grasping his muscles, eager to try everything new that Crowley had to offer. He kissed with inexperienced enthusiasm but Crowley could work with that. He steered his kisses into something more controlled and pleasurable before directing them towards the bedroom. 

Reaching behind himself, he turned the knob to open the door with one hand while pushing Shadwell away with the other. Grinning, he took a few backwards steps into the room, trailing one hand down the row of buttons of his silk shirt, teasing him. Shadwell stayed in the doorway watching hungrily. 

Then, breaking the silence Crowley said, “by your leave,  _ Lance Corporal _ .” Shadwell needed no further prompting. 

The next morning Shadwell woke up in a strange bed with a strange man feeling strange things. He uncurled from around the pillow he had been hugging and sat back against the headboard where Crowley was already leant against. Much like the previous night, Crowley relished his uncomfortableness. 

Shadwell coughed into his fist, trying to break the tension. “So…”

“You are under no obligation. This was, as you said so eloquently last night, “just getting a leg over”. You and I both know that while you are curious, you’ve no intention of repeating last night’s experiences.” 

Shadwell blinked at him, dumbfounded. “Wha- how could you  _ possibly _ know that??!” 

Wanting their interaction to be over as soon as possible, Crowley grinned and lifted the sheet a bit to reveal a convenient third nipple just under his left nipple that he had freshly conjured. 

Shadwell sputtered in disbelief. “No...no no no, I checked! That was nae there last night!” 

“Are you sure?” Crowley made a show of looking down and poking it to see if it was real. “Cause I’ve had it an awful long time.” 

“Christ. You’re a witch!”

“Fancy a fry up,” Crowley said sarcastically and watched as Shadwell scrambled out of bed, racing for the door. 

After he heard the door slam Crowley let himself cackle out loud, enjoying his own private joke. He stretched and groaned, slinking out of bed in search of breakfast. He didn’t need to eat but he always felt a bit peckish after a “night of passion”. Something about the flood of hormones and burst of activity and the whole Making An Effort thing made him crave a good, greasy fry up. 

With a flick of his wrist the extra nipple was gone and he had laid the groundwork for Shadwell to conveniently forget their entire encounter. He may have enjoyed playing with him for the night, but he didn’t want to scar him for life. 

Besides, you never know when a Witchfinder Army would come in handy. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading this trainwreck, go ahead and drag me, lol


End file.
